


Hit With the Read

by heilz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, OOCness, bullshit shenanigans, if you squint and maybe drink a little bit you might be able to see it, relationship-ish, the story is dumb anyway so who cares haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heilz/pseuds/heilz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal works up the nerve to text his bae but gets hit with that read-and-no-response. Unwritten feelings possibly ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit With the Read

**Author's Note:**

> It is currently an official hobby of mine to write the stupidest Hannibal ficlets that are so utterly pointless I "can't even". It's so much fun. Warning: "The End" does indeed tie off this story.  
> Also warning for Hannibal OOCness, but if you're still with me at this point I doubt that matters.

In his opinion, and that being the only opinion that mattered, Hannibal was an irrefutable man. He knew, not out of vanity, of course, but of his experience of the world, that there was something about him that drew others in. Whether it be his classic taste in the arts or his well-trained psychiatric ability to know _just_ the right thing to say, he wouldn’t be able to tell, but it was because he was a mix of both that he didn’t have to determine which factor had the most impact on those he associated with.

Nonetheless, Hannibal Lecter had never been ignored, refused or rejected since a long time ago, when he lived with Lady Murasaki—and even then, the woman had eventually asked for Hannibal. But then, it was his turn to refuse _her._ And ever since, Hannibal’s whims had become an easygoing feat that required little effort to tend to. Other than serial murder, of course.

Hannibal had recently obtained Will Graham’s phone number—it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and Hannibal hadn’t made it seem as if he’d gone out of his way to ask for it; he had an explanation prepared when he’d asked, but Will had politely given it to him without any qualms, so Hannibal thought it best to leave it at that. What he would have said would’ve been something along the lines of declaring their friendship, as their “doctor-patient” relationship technically didn’t exist, but he apparently didn’t have to voice that opinion.

And now, iPhone in hand, Hannibal began to type a text to the contact “Will Graham”.

(With no heart-eye emoji.)

_“Hello, Will. Your next appointment is scheduled to be held on the first, but I would like to suggest we opt for a nice chat over dinner at my home instead. Holla back when you get the chance.”_

…And sent.

Now, Hannibal knew that it was inconceivable for _anyone_ to refuse an offer to his table, so he left his phone at his kitchen counter in order to prepare. The first was only two days away, and he would have to find someone… _worthy,_ he supposed, of being his and Will’s dinner.

 

When Hannibal returned much later that night after the “deed” was done, he glimpsed his phone sitting on the counter, right where he had left it. He walked up to it, curious as to what Will’s reply was.

But upon unlocking his phone, he found that there were no new messages that were received.

Mystified, Hannibal decided that the phone could possibly have a glitch and opened his messages app to see Will’s definite reply—after all, it hadn’t been _that_ late when Hannibal sent the message. Will couldn’t have been sleeping by then.

He tapped “Will Graham” to open their message queue. And there, right under Hannibal’s message, replacing the standard “Delivered” signal:

_“Read 10:38 PM”._

Hannibal stared at the new alert, at a loss for…well, anything.

Hannibal Lecter being hit with that read? An offer to an exquisite five-star quality dinner being so blatantly ignored? What was this shit? He felt like he should be outraged, but he couldn’t feel anything.

This…this was defeat.

Hannibal Lecter had been beaten by a modern notion that being ignored via text was a feat so devastating that it should indeed shake even the most hardened cannibal to his core. And that was exactly what it did.

THE END.


End file.
